


break the lock if it don't fit

by mercutioes



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, M/M, cw mild descriptions of injury, happy rarepair swap!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 05:43:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14805459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercutioes/pseuds/mercutioes
Summary: It starts like this:Augustus Foxwell in a hospital bed and Diego Rose above him — maskless, grinning like a wolf, like an animal who takes vicious delight in watching his prey squirm.  If Augustus were less out of his mind on drugs and pain and ice-cold fear, he might see the bitterness under the bravado.But he doesn’t.  It’s not that time yet.





	break the lock if it don't fit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [homsantoft (tofsla)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tofsla/gifts).



> happy rarepair swap eli! all your prompts were so good but i'm a sucker for hot boys fighting soooooo here we are.
> 
> title from "kiss with a fist" by florence because apparently i'm back in the HS fandom circa 2013

It starts like this:

Augustus Foxwell in a hospital bed and Diego Rose above him — maskless, grinning like a wolf, like an animal who takes vicious delight in watching his prey squirm.  If Augustus were less out of his mind on drugs and pain and ice-cold fear, he might see the bitterness under the bravado.

But he doesn’t.  It’s not that time yet.

Instead, he sees the way Diego retreats when Captain Thorne walks in and in his delirium thinks that maybe he’s not a wolf at all but the kind of hunting hound that only heels for a single master.

//

Days pass in the haze of painkillers and physical therapy, running simulations to get used to new squadron flight patterns, becoming acquainted with the twisting, ramshackle hallways of the  _ Yersinia _ .  He gets lost sometimes.  One moment he’s in a familiar hallway, the next he’s passed over a crudely-welded threshold and finds himself in a completely different wing of the ship.  It’s made of a metal he’s never seen before and he trails his fingers along the walls, feeling the warp and bend under his skin.

“You lost?”

Augustus startles, fight or flight reflexes kicking up and he whirls around even though his back and torso protest painfully.  He slumps when he sees that it’s Diego, leaning against the wall in a pose that looks so casual it  _ must _ be practiced.

“No,” he says, folding his arms across his chest.  Diego makes him feel cornered, like he needs to protect his still-healing ribs, his hammering heart.  “I was just… wandering.”

“You  _ wandered _ into the databank wing, Foxwell,” Diego says, smile at odds with the venom dripping from his tone.  “Seems a little suspicious for a fresh recruit to be wandering around here.” A swell of defensiveness rises in Augustus’ gut, makes his cheeks heat.

“I’m not  _ spying _ ,” he snaps back.  Diego snorts, pushing off the wall and stepping into Augustus’ space.  Before he can do anything, Diego slings an arm around his shoulders, a mockery of camaraderie.

“‘Course not, champ,” he says, leading Augustus forcefully down the corridor and onto familiar ground.  Augustus flushes, though he’d swear it was from anger, not because of the way Diego’s arm digs into the side of his throat.

//

Augustus jumps down from his damaged mech as soon as the bay doors close, buzzing with adrenaline, a cut on his cheek still oozing blood — he’d sliced it on the dashboard as he was thrown forward by the impact of a Horizon shell.

He barely has time to get his bearings before Diego’s in his face, all rage and white knuckles.

“What the fuck were you  _ thinking _ , Foxwell?” he spits, jabbing a finger into Augustus’ chest.  “You had  _ direct orders _ to fall back —”

“I saved  _ all _ your asses and you know it,” Augustus snaps, shoving Diego back.  “Your orders would have gotten us killed.” Something bright and burning in his chest makes him reckless and this time he’s the one getting up in Diego’s face.  “I think you’re just scared ‘cause I’m a better pilot than you, Rose.”

Pain blooms across his cheek as his head snaps to the side, Diego’s knuckles catching under his eye.  He can already tell that he’ll have a hell of a bruise tomorrow. He’s still got stars in his vision as Diego gathers the front of his flight suit in his fist, pulling him in until Augustus can feel hot breath on his face.  His eye is swelling shut, can barely focus on Diego’s face with the other.

“You ever talk to me like that again,” Diego seethes, quiet and low, “I will personally throw you out the nearest airlock.  Understood?” There’s fear seeping into Augustus’ gut, but that reckless part of him wants to see just how far he can push it.

“I wonder what the captain would think about that,” Augustus replies, grinning.  He can taste the blood on his teeth. “You might get in _ trouble _ .”

“Don’t you  _ dare _ ,” breathes Diego, and Augustus knows he’s won.  He laughs as Diego shoves him away and stalks out of the docking bay.

//

Weeks pass, and pass, and pass.  Augustus’ black eye heals. He visits the captain’s quarters more often while Diego becomes scarcer.  Theirs is a tension full of conflict, an extended dance between rivals — it’s not pleasant, but it becomes tenable, almost stable (almost  _ fun _ ) the longer they spin.  They fight and they mourn and they drink.  They both gain new scars.

//

Augustus isn’t a trained medic — the best he can do is apply pressure to Diego’s wounds and keep him awake and wait for help to come.  There’s a deep gash in his side from shrapnel thrown out by a concussive shell. His blood spatters the pavement along with ash and broken glass.  Augustus strips off his heavy pilot’s gloves before he presses down on the gash, trying his best to hold off the bleeding and ignore the groan of pain Diego makes in the back of his throat.

“I’m  _ fine _ , Foxwell,” Diego manages to grit out.  “Get out of here before you get blasted to bits.”

“I’m not leaving you here to die,” Augustus says, keeping his hands steady as possible on Diego’s side.  “The medics are on their way, you just have to stay with me.”

There’s an explosion to their right, frighteningly close.  Diego tenses under him like he wants to get up and run, and the motion sets the bleeding off again, liquid running hot between Augustus’ fingers.

“Stay still,” he orders, “just a few more minutes, come on.”  He keeps babbling, keeps the pressure on and the words flowing.  Diego’s eyes are fluttering but they stay open long enough for the med team to get there.  One of them pushes Augustus aside, sealing the wound temporarily with thick stasis gel and loading Diego into one of their mechs to get him back to the  _ Yersinia _ .  Augustus watches in a daze, like he’s just a second behind everyone else moving around him.

Someone shakes his shoulder and tells him to get moving.

He gets moving.

//

It ends like this:

Diego Rose in a hospital bed and Augustus Foxwell above him — concern and conflict writ large across his features.  Diego’s out of his mind on drugs and pain and exhaustion, enough that Augustus can clearly see the bitterness under the bravado.

“What is it with you and ignoring my orders?” Diego rasps, voice quiet and weak and almost-fond.  His mask is disabled, scarring visible down the whole right half of his face. Augustus laughs.

“I don’t follow bad orders,” he retorts.  Diego makes a frustrated noise, reaching up with shaking fingers to clench in Augustus’ shirt and pull him down into a kiss.


End file.
